frost on a crimson flower

[backstreetbard]

It is, perhaps, some form of cosmic irony that the grand cathedral that once served as the seat of the Church of Seiros is one of the few structures in Fhirdiad that suffered no damage from the fires that raged for a time on the day Rhea set the city ablaze. It's only natural, then, that it would serve today as the venue for a wedding, although one would be forgiven for mistaking the event for a funeral, given the maudlin atmosphere.

The hallowed hall is decorated in colorful banners and flowers imported from much warmer climes, and though the guests are all dressed in their finest attire, many of them wear grim expressions. The Blue Lions are assembled--at least, those who survived the war. Notably, Sylvain isn't standing with them, counted instead among the personal entourage of Emperor Edelgard, unable to meet the eyes of any of his old friends. Certainly not Dimitri's, where he stands at the head of the hall near the altar near the nervous-looking officiant Count Varley.

Edelgard orchestrated this entire scene, of course. Well, Hubert helped with the logistics, but this had been her idea. The Kingdom could have been incorporated back into the Adrestian Empire just as easily as the Alliance was after Claude fled back to Almyra, but something stayed her hand at that decisive moment when she could have--and perhaps should have--killed him. Now, everyone who survived this bloody war will have to live with the ramifications of her choice, though perhaps no one will have to pay so dearly as...

All eyes turn to the hall's entrance as the small orchestra begins to play a bridal procession. Dorothea Arnault appears in the arching doorway dressed in a royal blue dress richly adorned with beads and embroidery, though for all she looks every bit the bride, her expression is somber. She might as well be marching towards the gallows.

Comments

[hauntedking]

Dimitri feels numb. He has felt numb since the war. Since everything came crashing down and the world seemed to go mad. He has lost so much over the last few years and it is a minor miracle that he has not lost his life in the process. Although perhaps that would have been preferable to seeing so many of his friends perish fighting for him. In the end, it availed him nothing and he is now to be king of a client kingdom, tied to the Empire by ties of blood. Or... whatever the nation that Edelgard is building will call itself.

His feelings on her are mixed; a mingling of loathing, hatred and affection for a girl with brown hair and violet eyes. That's far away now, though. Instead he stands waiting for this day to move forward. It really does feel like a funeral. His gaze lifts and swings toward the door as Dorothea appears. He knows what some of his vassals think of this; he also knows that they don't have a choice.

A treaty is a treaty.

So as she comes walking down the aisle he waits until she draws toward the altar and he silently, grimly holds a hand out to her.

[backstreetbard]

Dorothea hesitates for a fraction of a moment, unable to meet Dimitri's eyes as she puts her hand in his. He's enormous, physically powerful enough to break her body to pieces without breaking a sweat if he wanted to, but a treaty is a treaty, and she has been chosen as executrix on behalf of the Adrestian Empire, as if it's an honor to submit herself to this man. It will be her responsibility now to mend this war-ravaged country, to fight tooth and nail against a hostile court to implement imperial decrees meant to rebuild, to connect Fodlan, to make the continent prosper.

She and Edelgard argued about it for hours, but Dorothea's wishes were nothing compared to the Emperor's will. No amount of pleading, no amount of tears, nothing could change Edelgard's mind--it had to be Dorothea or it would be no one. The Kingdom would be dissolved, and Dimitri's fate... well. It doesn't bear to dwell on it now.

One small mercy: the ceremony is short. Count Varley offers a small benediction and Dorothea tries not to retch. Their vows are exchanged mechanically, their hands bound with red silk cords, their lives--for better or worse--joined together until one or both of them dies. A banquet follows, but Dorothea can only pick at her food, too nervous even to eat. It seems Dimitri feels similarly, the food on his plate only ever shifting around without ever diminishing.

The afternoon winds down into the evening, and the king and his new queen consort are excused early, escorted to a specially-prepared bedroom by armed guards. A cleric unties their binding and they're led into separate antechambers where servants quickly help them out of their complicated wedding attire and into a set of ceremonial robes before they're brought back into the room and put to bed. Only then are they finally left alone, even though Kingdom tradition dictates that at least one third party should observe the consummation to ensure its completion. Dorothea was so vehemently opposed to the idea that she'd threatened to run away to Dagda if anyone tried to force the issue, and the Kingdom's delegates had agreed.

Even so, there's no avoiding what comes next.

The room is decorated in shades of blue and silver, the stone walls lined with candles and symbols representing fidelity and fertility. Dorothea lies on her back, staring at the velvet canopy above them and wondering if Dimitri will initiate or if she'll have to take matters into her own hands.

Jaw clenched, she sits up and shifts to look down at him. She remembers the way he'd been so boyishly charming back at the Academy, so proper and formal. They'd hardly interacted back then, though it would hardly make any difference now even if they'd had. Maybe he would resent her more than he must surely resent her now, a foundation of friendship only deepening the betrayal, but he'd never been close to her, and he surely never would be now. Fortunately, it's entirely possible to marry someone without even a shred of affection between them, and Dorothea had always suspected that hers would eventually be a loveless marriage.

"We should be quick about this," she suggests, her voice soft and sympathetic in spite of the dread crawling up her spine.

[hauntedking]

When the Empress had told him that his kingdom was not going to simply be annihilated - but would have some quasi-independence, as long as the reforms were implemented. And they would be implemented, at the point of a sword. The nobility would be losing their privileges. Institutions would be opened. The kingdom would be an autonomous part of the new order - but still a part of it all the same. It wasn't as if he could even fight back, with so many dead and himself a prisoner. So he tries not to think too hard in this moment, where they go through with this ceremony. It's almost farcical, but it is also deadly, serious.

His gaze is distant and he barely looks at Dorothea, choosing instead to focus on the wall over Varley's shoulder. His eyes meet hers briefly as they're handfasted and then - the ceremony and "celebration" continues. Dimitri eats, but he's not paying attention. At least there's no real need to try and raise the spirits of everyone else. It isn't as if anyone is a celebratory mood. There's muted conversation and it feels more like a funeral.

The evening wears on.

There's the room they're meant to share; a consumation was insisted upon and he will carry through, he thinks. Even if he feels a bit of disgust in his gut from the thought of being forced - or of forcing his erstwhile wife. The familiar symbols and traditional regalia fade into the background and he realizes that he's been staring at the ceiling for a few minutes only when Dorothea speaks. His gaze flickers to her and there's something reserved and deeply sad in them.

"...I know," he replies, voice low and flat, "...I did not want to force it on you."

He's a lot of things. But he doesn't think he'd ever bring himself to do that.

"...I don't even know if I can tonight, though."

Which is an awkward, embarrassing admission. But the mood isn't precisely romantic, is it?

[backstreetbard]

A mix of emotions vies for dominance in Dorothea--frustration, mostly, and some annoyance. After all her experiences, she finds it a little hard to believe that any man with a pulse wouldn't be able to bring himself to sleep with her, but given their circumstances, she can hardly begrudge him. Neither of them wants to be here, but he's acting as lifeless as a corpse while lying in the same bed as her and that stings a bit.

"It wouldn't be you forcing me. I agreed to this knowing exactly what it entailed, remember?"

If anything, Dimitri's been forced into this just as much as she has. She might pity him if he didn't frighten her, but even her fear has abated a bit, given how defeated and sad he looks.

Leaning over him, she reaches out to undo his robe, exposing his broad chest and muscular torso. There's no denying that he's an attractive man, that his body is ruggedly beautiful, sculpted by years of training and warfare. If their circumstances were different, she could imagine giving herself to him eagerly, but he hardly even seems interested in her in the slightest.

Sighing softly, Dorothea bows her head to kiss his throat, determined to do her duty before the night is done. Slowly, she begins to work her way down his neck, across his collarbones and the expanse of his chest. She nips his skin here and there, and after a moment her open palm begins to glide down over the muscles of his stomach, nails ghosting across skin.

[hauntedking]

Dimitri, even now, has a streak of that chivalry in him. He knows what's expected of them both and he knows she's apparently come here of her own will. He'd have to be blind and deaf to not realize that she's as enthused as he is about the whole affair (which is not very). So the thought of trying to consummate the marriage, even if required, has earned mixed feelings from him. She is beautiful of course. A strikingly attractive woman. In another time and place he might be more nervous about the whole affair. But - here she is.

"You did, but... even so-"

He starts to object - but she's reaching for him already and his eyes widen, his breath catching involuntarily as she leans over him. For a long moment he just stares and then there's a rush of exhalation as she starts to kiss against his exposed skin, his chest rising and falling as teeth and nails glide over his skin. He's frozen - and then he responds, haltingly and with a touch of trepidation, but he does respond. A hand lifts to gently press his hand against her head. His touch is incredibly cautious, delicate, as if she might be made of glass. But at least he's responding to her.

He's not going to just sit.

"...as you wish."

[backstreetbard]

Dorothea freezes for half a second when Dimitri touches her, knowing that he could kill her without even trying. His touch is light, though, not boxing her in but meant, perhaps, to express his willingness.

"You can tell me to stop anytime if you really hate what I'm doing." She says that, but she knows he won't stop her because of their circumstances. She's his wife now, for better or worse.

Her hand continues to slide down his torso, but she doesn't grab him immediately. She touches him with all the tenderness she can muster, caressing the tense muscles of his thighs, the ridges of his hip bones, kissing him all the while. Only then does she take his cock in hand, stroking at a slow pace to start. He's... larger than she expected he would be, if she's honest, but she's no blushing virgin; she can handle herself and him to get the job done if she has to.

That being said, she's relieved when she feels him getting even a little hard. She can work with that.

"You're doing well," she says, soft praise in her voice.

[hauntedking]

"I... don't hate it," He murmurs in response. And he doesn't. It's just - not ideal. He's always been aware that he might marry someone for reasons other than love. It's a part of the territory of being a prince and then a king. This has just felt far more unpleasant than it might otherwise have been. But... in the here and now she seems to be making so much of an effort that he can't help but be swayed by her. Even if he still tastes something bitter in his mouth.

Her touch leaves his breath fluttering slightly as he tries to figure out how he ought to respond. Especially when he feels those fingers close around his shaft. The soft touches all over him - it stirs need and want and arousal in him, even if his mind is still not quite where it could be for this. Then again, he supposes hers isn't either. And yet here they are.

"...I've never really done this with anyone before," He admits to her in a low voice, his fingers gently carding through her hair and down to the nape of her neck. His other hand touches in return, tentative and a touch unsure, tracing calloused fingers over her shoulder, her collarbone, down toward her breasts.

"...I apologize for that. I doubt I will be much of a lover."

[backstreetbard]

Oh, that's promising, that gentle touch. And (rather morbidly) the knowledge that she wouldn't suffer for more than a second if he snapped her neck right now. He doesn't make any sudden movements, though, just letting his hands roam down her body as hers have been on his. It makes her shiver just a little bit, her skin warming in the wake of his fingers.

"It's all right if it's your first time. I'll show you what to do."

Arching her back a little, she presses her breast into his waiting hand. It's soft and warm, like every part of her that he's touched so far, and she allows him to test the feel and weight of it in his palm. Meanwhile, she begins to focus a little more on the head of his cock, swirling her fingers around and under the tip, teasing.

With her free hand, Dorothea begins to touch herself as well. This isn't her first time, but this could still hurt if she isn't ready to take him.

[hauntedking]

"Just... tell me if I do something wrong..." He murmurs - and he feels hideously vulnerable saying that. But this whole moment is one of hideous vulnerability, isn't it? They're touching one another, baring their bodies, trying to do something that is meant to be intimate. So vulnerability is entirely a part of it - even if there is pleasure from the way that her fingers tease him. He shivers, his shaft twitching against her fingers and then a slow, low gasp.

He barely knows her. And yet-

His fingers sink into the flesh of her breast, groping gently as he tries to do somehting that will give back a little. A thumb brushes a nipple and then he squeezes tentatively, pinching to see if that's something he should be doing. His head cranes slightly to get a better look at her in the low light and there's fascination in his eyes as he watches her touch himself. For a moment he hesitates and then he drops a hand to cover her own, pressing between her thighs.

"Shall I...?"

[backstreetbard]

It's vulnerable for her, too, but Dorothea is used to being exposed. She grew up on the streets, a little girl fending for herself in a world too big and cruel to comprehend it. Being naked in front of a man doesn't seem like such a trial in comparison, even if he doesn't love her. It's fine. She'll manage.

Especially since it seems chivalry isn't entirely dead after all. Dimitri extends his hand to her and Dorothea moves hers out of the way, though it stays close to guide him. His fingers are large and rough, but it's also kind of nice to have his hands on her body. Parting the folds of her flesh for him, she shows him to the spot he's needed most.

"Do you feel that little nub there? Yes, right there. Good, now, rub it gently with your fingertips. ... Just like that." She coaches him for a few moments on the subtleties of how to touch her: the angle, direction, speed, pressure, and how those factors can change as her arousal grows. It's not long before he has her moaning softly, skin flushed and beaded with perspiration. She could honestly come just from this, but more needs to be done if she wants to be prepared to take him.

Taking his hand again, she guides his fingers to her slick entrance and has him ease one in.

"Now curl your finger in a--oh! Yes, like that."

[hauntedking]

Love? Dimitri isn't sure he's worthy of love, in any case - so in the moment this is more about duty and making sure that - well. That she's at least comfortable. Even if he doesn't quite know what to do with himself. Chivalric or romantic, it doesn't much matter in the moment. He just... wants to do right by her, if he can. Even if he finds the whole situation miserable. He watches her with wide eyes, feeling her under his fingers - the slickness, the flesh - and he follows her instructions, rubbing gently, circling, his touch incredibly light.

He still seems to be a touch afraid that he might hurt her somehow.

But he continues, slow and steady, and then one of his fingers slips into her. He's privately amazed at the feeling - wet and tight and warm - and he draws his finger deeper and deeper still, curling back against her inner wall as he tries to remember to breathe. She really does take his breath away - although what that means for later, he's not so sure.

[backstreetbard]

It's fine if he keeps his touch light, given just how strong he is. Dorothea can work with what he's able to give her, and he needs to learn anyway if they're ever going to do this again, which she assumes they will from time to time. She'll have to provide him with an heir at some point, as is her duty as queen consort, even if she is technically the one who'll be steering the direction the country takes under the Empire's protection.

That's a faraway concern compared to everything happening in this very moment, though. Dorothea grinds down against the heel of Dimitri's palm, urging him to add a second finger after a few moments, instructing him even as her voice begins to waver, her muscles going tense. She comes on his hand with a whimper, her whole body shaking and shivering as she curls in on herself.

She can't stop now, though--the next part is what really matters. Squeezing his wrist, she moves to straddle him, looking down at his handsome face in the warm candlelight. Her face is flushed, her skin damp, her hand only trembling the slightest bit as she holds his cock steady, positioning herself to receive him into the wet heat of her body.

[hauntedking]

Dimitri has, of course, educated himself on the idea of sex and sexual pleasure. He knows how it's meant to work - he's even masturbated before - but giving someone pleasure like this is an entirely new experience for him. Especially when they make the sort of noises that Dorothea does. Little whimpers and gasps. The way she grips against him, the way her fingers dig in, how she grinds against his palm. It's a rush. Dizzying in a way. To give is as good as receiving.

Things move quickly, of course.

She seems determined to continue and he has no wish to stop her. Even if that reluctance is there, that knowledge at the back of his mind of their situation, he has been caught up in a dizzying rush. He peers at her, beautiful and flushed in the dim light, and his hands settle on her hips to help guide and steady her. He can't quite believe this is happening, his own excitement and pleasure running hot. As she settles, he tugs a little, his mouth open in a low moan as her body opens for him...

[backstreetbard]

Dimitri is an immense man, and even with the effort she put into preparing herself, she still exhales sharply as he penetrates her, bracing her hands on his arms.

And then she jolts in surprise when he comes the moment he's fully-seated inside her. She can feel the heat of his spend inside her, and both of them exchange shocked, sheepish looks.

"I..."

She honestly doesn't know what to say. He'd told her that this was his first time, so she hadn't been entirely certain what to expect. This wasn't it, but it's not the worst-case scenario by a very long shot. In fact, that's technically their duty completed for the night, their marriage officially consummated.

He hasn't removed his hands from her waist, though, and she's at a loss for how to react. Should she reassure him? Tell him that lots of men don't last long their first time? Would that make him feel better or worse?

[hauntedking]

Dimitri, for his part, seems more than a little mortified - once he's not gasping for breath, anyway. It happened incredibly unexpectedly. A rush of pleasure that he hadn't been able to hold back and in a moment he'd been undone. He swallowed thickly and peered up at her, face flushed. He felt - what? Ashamed? Embarrassed? He seemed to shrunk for a moment and then he seemed to get a rush of determination. His hands squeezed a little tighter and - without waiting - he slid his hips in a slow thrust.

And then again.

He wasn't softening after all and his hands helped guide her as he seemed (if anything) determined to continue!

[backstreetbard]

Oh.

Oh.

Dimitri just keeps going like nothing happened and Dorothea mentally shrugs and holds on. She knows that the Crest of Blaiddyd is one that gives those who possess it incredible strength, but she hadn't considered what effect it might have on someone's stamina.

He holds her with enough strength that her hips will likely show some bruising in the morning, but even so, she's grateful for his restraint. His pace is rather subdued to start, lifting her bodily like she weighs nothing and then pulling her back down the length of his cock.

"It's okay to go faster," she assures him. "Please." She could easily come again if he picks up the pace, breathing a little faster as she squirms in his grip, arousal building but not enough to satisfy.

[hauntedking]

Stamina is certainly something he is. Whether it's because of who he is or the crest, he doesn't quite know. But he's determined to at least make sure she enjoys this. Even if it's the only time they touch. Even if they never share a bed again. This, at least, should be something pleasurable, right? His gaze flickers, eyelids falling half shut as he peers up at her and listens to those breathless little words.

And he listens, too.

He moves faster; moves her faster, sliding her up and down on his shaft, his hips working to meet her with a wet, slick sound. He can feel his own nerves screaming - overstimulated and full of red heat - but he keeps going even so, feeling her squirm underneath his grip.

[backstreetbard]

Whether they ever touch or share a bed again is a negotiation in its own right to be had another day. In spite of the arranged nature of their marriage, they'll probably need to produce at least one heir, so unless he manages to get her pregnant tonight it seems inevitable that they'll have to do this again.

She might not hate the idea as much as she thought she would.

In fact, it's easy in this moment to let all her thoughts and worries float away as Dimitri does all the work, fucking her hard and fast. Her second climax hits her just as forcefully, doubling her over with a cry that she muffles behind a hand as she clenches down around him.

The world tips in a dizzying way, and it takes her a moment to realize he's flipped their position. Can he still keep going? Is he not spent? Her legs wrap around his waist instinctively, heels digging into the small of his back.

[hauntedking]

Dimitri is a little carried away himself. It's easy to sink into the physical motion and let his thoughts drift from the problems like this. When she's here, available, willing, when he's being driven by a sense of need. He groans and then he buries his face against the crook of her neck, panting for breath as his legs spread and he puts more of his power into her; more thrusting, more pressure, almost relentless - but throughout, he seems to hold back, his grip still just light enough, as if he might somehow shatter her into a million pieces.

Although the feeling of her heels pressing him closer, deeper, almost makes him forget that. He shivers as he feels her clench around him. Shivers as he presses closer to her heat, her warmth, drives deep, lost in the slap of flesh against flesh. He's going to spill over the edge again. Of that he's certain.

He just wants to hold back for a few more heartbeats.

[backstreetbard]

The mix of emotions Dorothea is experiencing is so strange right now. The ecstatic pleasure is foremost, on the cusp of a third orgasm as she is, but Dimitri presses his face into the tender crook of her shoulder and she feels a surprising surge of both affection and pity. What a state.

Turning her head slightly, she nuzzles into the hair at his temple, moaning and whimpering into his ear even as she reaches up to stroke his hair gently.

"You're doing so well," she says, echoing her earlier praise in a breathless and needy tone. "I--I'm going to come again. Oh... Won't you kiss me, Dimitri?" A surprising request for them both, probably, since she hadn't intended to kiss him beyond what was required at their wedding ceremony, but she wants it now.

[hauntedking]

Dimitri is - overwhelmed, really. A rush of emotions and physical sensation that make his head buzz. He can't feel love for her. He doesn't. This is entirely a mix of physical attraction and guilt and some - what? Pity? For himself? He doesn't know. But he wants to be close, closer still, the little noises she makes into his ear sending a shudder through him as her fingers press into his hair.

"Yes - yes, I will-"

The praise. The praise practically breaks him. Almost makes him want to weep as he takes her lips in a kiss and his body finally, finally shudders again - an overwhelming, almost painful sensation as his over-stimulated nerves push his body over the edge and his seed fills her again.

[backstreetbard]

Dorothea's cries are lost Dimitri's mouth as her third climax washes over her, making her body go tense before finally relaxing, boneless and trembling. That was... good. Intense. Certainly better than she'd expected or even dared to hope for. Their marriage might be arranged and loveless, but that doesn't mean it needs to be sexless, right? They're both prisoners here, so they might as well enjoy what few benefits this arrangement can afford them.

And since Dimitri seemed to like the praise, she decides to give him more as they both wind down from that high. She strokes his hair, brushing her thumbs over his cheeks, her hands gentle.

"Look at you. So strong and so brave. This isn't easy, is it? But you made me feel so good. You were amazing just now." And then she adds: "I really will do my best, you know? To be a good queen, and a good wife to you. To carry on your bloodline and be a good mother to our children. So... come to my bed when you need me."

[hauntedking]

Dimitri trembles. A part of him wants to recoil; another part wants to sink in to the warm embrace. How else can he rectify this? What else can he think? He swallows hard, still holding himself over her, so as not to crush her with his bulk. And then he slides off of her and slumps onto his side next to her. He wants to reach out so badly - but he doesn't quite know if he can. His hand settles on her belly after a moment as he tries to breathe.

"...I didn't realize-"

He pauses.

"...I want to trust you. And I want - well. I want you."

His cheeks flush.

"...I honestly hadn't thought about having children. I was - I am - there's so much that's happened."

[backstreetbard]

She wouldn't have blamed him if he had recoiled. She's the enemy, right? She was there when the Adrestian army marched on Fhirdiad. He has no reason to trust her, to have faith that she'll do her best to be a good partner, a good leader, a good parent. It's not like anyone has ever been any of those things for her, so why would anyone expect her to do better?

Sighing, she turns her eyes towards him, a small smile curling up the corners of her mouth when he says he wants her.

"We're married now, so I don't see why we shouldn't make love from time to time. You don't have to trust me for that. As for children... well. An heir would at least give the appearance of a return to stability in the kingdom, especially with how much everything else is changing. It isn't urgent, anyway."

There's so much work to be done that it's probably wise to wait a while before bringing a child into the world, in fact.

[hauntedking]

"...doesn't trust make it much easier?" He has to ask, eyes a little downcast. He's still figuring out how he feels. Although the amazing sex they just had sort of helps him feel better about the whole thing. So does her attitude. It's... different from the chilly, distant affair that had been the wedding.

"...you seem - I don't know. The ceremony seemed so awkward."

Well, it had been. He has to admit that.

[backstreetbard]

"I trust that you aren't going to kill me in my sleep." Stated casually. They both know the consequences of an action like that would be swift and brutal, and neither of them wants that. "Beyond that, we'll just have to learn to trust each other, won't we? Nothing but time and experience for that."

The ceremony had certainly been a rather frigid affair, but Dorothea is nothing if not pragmatic. She's resigned to this now, bound by vows and promises and expectations, so she might as well enjoy what few pleasures this arrangement can afford her.

"I'm not going to lie and say I'm thrilled about this. I had hopes and dreams for my future too, you know, but this is my reality now, and I'm not going to wallow in misery forever when my situation could be so much worse, and has been so much worse."

She's trying to make it sound so simple, but there's a brittle note in her voice, like she could burst into tears thinking of all the unfulfilled wishes that are now forever out of her reach. He doesn't need to know.

"We're lucky to be here. We should both remember that."

Then she rolls to the edge of the bed and sits up with a groan, reaching for a towel to wipe up the mess between her thighs.

[hauntedking]

Dimitri wasn't quite sure how to take that. At least for the moment. It settled in him and he took a moment himself to sprawl onto his back and consider as she tugged away to sit up. He's spent so much time mourning. He wasn't sure he wanted to mourn again, in truth. He just had to figure out what he would - should - do with himself and the weight he carried. All the death. All the loss.

It was still a wound.

He glanced at her after another moment, examined the curve of her back and her neck.

"...I don't know. Sometimes I think it would have been better if she had simply executed me."

He sounded a touch morose.

"But that is a selfish thing, isn't it? To wish for death."